


Here Be Monsters

by Lush_Specimen



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Minimegs, Forgiveness, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 13:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lush_Specimen/pseuds/Lush_Specimen
Summary: A late night visit from Hoist forces Megatron to confront the overwhelming personal tragedies created by his legacy of violence. As he contemplates the long reaching consequences of his words, he begins to wonder if he truly deserves a second chance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself sad...

Megatron slipped into his habsuite and shut the door behind him. After another ridiculous day managing the shenanigans aboard the Lost Light, there was only one thing he really wanted to do. He settled on to his recharge slab in the dark and turned on the datapad full of original poetry that Minimus had given him earlier. Lit only by the soft glow of Minimus’ tentative musings, Megatron smiled. 

A soft knock at his door interrupted Minimus’ latest awkward attempt at metaphors. Megatron hesitated, secretly hoping his delay would discourage whoever lingered outside. The rapping continued, bolder and more insistent. Megatron groaned. Setting aside the luminescent datapad, he shuffled across the dim habsuite and opened the door. Squinting at the sudden brightness, he found a large green bot silhouetted against the light. 

“Hoist?” Megatron already had a list of stock responses depending on who was disturbing his rest, but he had nothing prepared for the bot nervously shifting before him. Although he made it a point to get to know all the members of the crew, particularly the mutineers, Hoist had consistently avoided him. “Do you want to come in?” 

“NO! I mean-” Hoist’s plating twitched like he might flee at any moment. “I just- I want you to have this.” He pressed a battered datapad into Megatron’s hands. Cracks fractured the screen and old energon stains darkened the corners. Megatron turned the fragile thing over in hands, carefully switching it on. Despite its deplorable condition, the screen instantly lit up, scattering broken beams of light through the numerous cracks. The title gave Megatron pause. 

“'Towards Peace'?” Megatron furrowed his brow. “I wrote this. I don’t understand.” 

“It was Trailcutter’s copy.” Hoist’s shoulders trembled. “He had it with him when- When he-” 

Megatron’s optics widened when his brain filled in the details that Hoist couldn’t bring himself to say. Trailcutter had this with him the day that the DJD tore him to pieces. 

“How-” 

“Nickel gave it to me.” Hoist quickly cut him off. “She- She got it from Tarn.” Tears glistened at the edges of his brilliant blue optics. 

“Hoist, I’m so sorry.” Megatron reached out but withdrew his hand when Hoist flinched away. 

“I loved him. The war was over. We were supposed to explore space together. Together.” Hoist clenched his fists and stared at the floor. “Then, just like that, he was gone. I blamed you. I hated you." 

Megatron considered the battered datapad in his hands. The broken light of his own words flickered across his face. He gently caressed the screen; his fingers catching on the shattered edges. The slowly increasing weight of this fragile thing threatened to overwhelm him. The incredible gravity of it all pressed down on his spark. What could he say? For all their power, words alone were a poor comfort. 

“I want you to have that so you will always remember Trailcutter.” Hoist finally met his optics. “For two reasons. First of all because monsters of your making murdered the love of my life.” Hoist’s voice wavered. Megatron waited patiently, giving him time to collect himself. 

“But also,” Hoist finally sighed, overcoming the surge of emotions, “Because in the short time that he knew you, you helped him more than I ever could. You made him sober up, gave him a job that he really liked and was good at.” The edges of Hoist’s optics crinkled at the happy memories. “He read that datapad over and over again. I could never get him to focus on anything before, but you gave him a purpose. You respected his abilities and he appreciated that. Trailcutter had perfected pretending to be happy into an artform. He lived his life behind a false smile and haze of engex. But for once he didn’t have to pretend. He truly was happy. We were happy.” 

“I don’t know what to say...” Megatron began. 

“What can you say?” Hoist shrugged. “After millions of years of war, he actually looked up to you. I didn’t understand it either. After he- When- When I was alone, Getaway fed into my hurt, my anger, and I agreed to go along with the mutiny.” Hoist’s shoulders drooped and he shut his optics, turned slightly away. “I never should have done that. Trailcutter would have been so disappointed in me.” 

Megatron’s spark twisted in his chest. Despite Rodimus’ determination to live life with eyes only on the present, he knew that his legacy of violence had effected everyone to some degree. He longed to offer some comfort to Hoist. He had the courage to bare his spark, Megatron owed him something. He cast a glance back towards his dark habsuite. The subtle glow of Minimus’ poetry, so clumsy and inelegant yet unflinchingly honest, inspired him. 

“I don’t know what to say, other than Trailcutter was truly an amazing person.” Megatron began. “On earth they tell a story of a creature named Pandora. She wanted to change the world. Her gods gifted her a box of unimaginable power but warned her that once opened it could never be closed again. Seeing all the injustice around her, Pandora cast the lid off releasing a hoard of terrible monsters. The world did change, but not in a way that she could control or contain.” He gently hugged the datapad to his chest. “This was my box of monsters. I wrote ‘Towards Peace’ and released them all. I couldn’t control who they hurt and even became one myself. Change did come, but at a great and terrible cost.” 

“Well, you’re right about one thing: Trailcutter was an amazing person.” Surprisingly, Hoist chuckled, shimmering light from the faulty datapad playing across his green and gold armor and shining on the tears that streaked his face. “You know, I spent a lot of time on earth with Trailcutter and that is not quite how that story goes.” 

“Oh?” 

“That’s okay. I like your version better, but you forgot the most important part.” 

“There’s more?” 

Hoist nodded. “Although Pandora did release the monsters, one tiny frail thing crawled out of the box at the very end. When it took to the sky, it grew and grew until it became the strongest, most powerful creature of all. Its name was Hope. You gave Trailcutter that hope, even if your monsters killed him.” 

“I am so sorry.” Megatron focused on the soft glow of the mangled datapad so he wouldn’t have to confront the pain in Hoist’s optics. “Trailcutter had such a kind and noble spark. He deserved so much better.” 

“Well, we don’t all of us get what we deserve, now do we.” Hoist replied, voice laced with bitterness. Seeing Megatron wince at the animosity dripping from his words, Hoist’s optics widened. “Oh Primus! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it like that- What I meant was- was-” Hoist floundered, shocked by his own raw emotions. “I- I have to go!” He transformed and sped away, leaving Megatron alone with a broken datapad. 

Megatron turned away from the brightness of the hallway and shut himself into his dark room. The fragmented light flickering from the cracked screen sent eerie shadows skittering across the ceiling. He sat down heavily on his recharge slab and buried his face in his hands. 

Hoist was right, none of them got what they deserved, least of all him. Megatron wondered if in the original universe, some alternate version of himself returned to port the day they decided to attempt the quantum experiment. He hoped that incarnation had the courage to face his trial. Whatever torments the council decided upon, he deserved far worse. 

He turned off Minimus’ datapad, extinguishing the steady clear light shining from the pristine screen. He didn’t deserve Minimus’ words, or Rodimus’ trust, or the faith of the crew. ‘Towards Peace’ sparked and flickered more erratically the longer the light burned through the cracks. Megatron watched the shadows twist, considering all the words contained in his polemic. Words he sharpened into fangs for monsters and swords for murderers. Words he forged into bullets for countless guns. What did it matter if his words brought hope if they couldn’t even bring comfort to one suffering spark?


	2. Of Nyon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Left with Trailcutter's battered copy of "Towards Peace," Megatron wonders if he deserves his second chance. When Rodimus shows up at his door in a flash of brilliance, he realizes that he's not alone in his struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, I made it both lighter and sadder at the same time.

Another round of knocking rattled his door. Megatron sighed. 

“MegsMegsMegsMegs! I know you’re in there! Come on! Open up!” 

“Go away, Rodimus.” Megatron mumbled. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Never better,” he deadpanned. “Just leave.” 

The beat of silence gave Megatron hope that Rodimus might actually leave him in peace. 

“You know, as co-captain, I can override the locks on your door.” 

No such luck. “Yes. And as co-captain, I can override your override.” 

Suddenly the door swished open and light spilled in, dispelling the oppressive darkness. Rodimus leaned against the door frame, metallic paint work sparkling like fire. “Guess which one of us is faster!” He snickered. 

“Please. I’m not in the mood.” 

“Aww! Did I interrupt your sulking?” Rodimus sauntered in uninvited, leaving the door wide open. 

“I do not sulk.” Megatron turned away from Rodimus’ radiance and focused on Trailcutter’s datapad. 

“Oh, that’s right! How could I forget? You take stock. How’s that working out for you?” Rodimus peered over Megatron’s shoulder, scattered light glinting off his shining topcoat. “Towards Peace, huh? Feeling nostalgic?” 

“Hardly.” Megatron finally turned off the datapad. It flashed brightly then gradually dimmed until it became black and lifeless in his hands. 

“I could get you a new copy. That one’s looking pretty rough.” 

“It was Trailcutter’s.” 

“Oh.” Rodimus flopped down on the recharge slab next to him. “So... Hoist finally gave it to you.” 

“What do you mean ‘finally’?” 

“He’s been worrying about talking to you for ages. I sent Thunders to try to help him out. You know, talk to him mutineer to mutineer; encourage him, that kind of thing. Although he feels terrible about the whole mutiny fiasco, he really misses Trailcutter. It’s complicated, I guess.” 

“Hmm...” Megatron ran his fingers lightly along the edges of the darkened datapad. “I don’t think our conversation went exactly as he had planned. Hoist was right about one thing. None of us get what we truly deserve.” He thought about elaborating on how he had so much right now that he didn’t deserve. How a monster such as himself had no place aboard the Lost Light. How there was no way he could ever deserve their trust and friendship. Instead, he swallowed all his regrets and stated another absolute truth. “Trailcutter deserved so much better.” 

Megatron enjoyed a full second of blissful silence before Rodimus started fidgeting. It only took another half second before he started speaking again. 

“You know...” Rodimus began, focusing on his feet as he absent-mindedly kicked them over the edge of the berth. “Beating yourself up won’t bring him back.” 

“I know that!” Megatron grumbled, protectively clutching the datapad. Why won’t Rodimus just leave him alone? 

“And neither will a time machine, because I tried that too.” 

“Look, Rodimus-” 

“S’okay, Megs.” Rodimus leaned over and gently nudged him with his shoulder. “I understand how you’re feeling.” 

“Actually,” Megatron scoffed and stared at him in disbelief, “I don’t think that you do.” The image of the endless field of spark flowers from the Necroworld flashed through his mind. He was directly responsible for so much death. When Hoist gave him Trailcutter’s datapad, that simple act dredged up the intimate personal tragedy of it all. Every single flower represented multiple stories of loss, if there were any survivors left behind to mourn. The monsters he’d unleased upon the universe were too many to forgive, too much to ever move past, and he was the biggest one of all. “How could you possibly understand?! What could you have ever done-” 

Before he finished his thought, Rodimus turned to face him and stared directly into his spark. Megatron startled at the ferocity simmering deep beneath the surface of his normally carefree cerulean optics. Without saying a word, Rodimus simply snapped his fingers. The tiny spark created by his golden fingertips ignited a small flame. Rodimus gently rolled the growing fire across his fingers until it filled his palm. 

Mesmerized, Megatron watched the flame dance, the single point of light in the darkness. Gradually it intensified from a warm cheerful vermilion to a blazing voracious white so bright it pained him to look at it. Megatron’s crimson optics widened and his vent fans hissed a sharp intake. In the blinding light, he could almost see a city ablaze, a skyline wreathed in all-consuming fire. The silence pressed on his audials like the screams of an entire population reduced to ash. 

Megatron shook his head and blinked, struggling to dispel the ghostly vision of destruction. Upon raising his optics, he found Rodimus transfixed by the tiny inferno nestled in his own palm. 

“Rodimus, I-” Megatron hesitated. He refused to patronize his co-captain with an apology. How could he have forgotten that Rodimus burned his own city to the ground? Even though he ignited those explosives to destroy Nyon before Sentinel could consume it as fuel for his war machine, Rodimus still killed everyone. Those casualties weren’t anonymous strangers but friends, comrades, people that he knew personally. He armed the devices, wired the trigger, and ultimately made the choice to press the button. Megatron was so overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of spark flowers surrounding his own statue that he never considered anyone else's. He wondered how many flowers around Rodimus’ monument represented the citizens of Nyon. Maybe, beneath his vibrant façade, he did understand what it felt like to view himself as a monster. “How do you cope with the enormity of it all?” 

“You know…” Rodimus sighed. He clenched his fist, snuffing out the fire and plunging them both back into the shadows. “The hardest person to forgive is yourself.” 

“Where do you even begin?” Megatron muttered, not daring to meet his optics. He wasn’t sure if he was worthy of anyone’s forgiveness, least of all his own. 

“Realizing that what you did was wrong is as good a place as any.” Rodimus shrugged. “Then it’s just one step at a time. You can never ‘make up’ for it. Nothing can undo something once it’s been done. All you can do is pick up the pieces and move forwards. If you’re lucky,” He nodded his head towards Minimus’ datapad still sitting on Megatron’s desk, “You find some friends who only see the best in you. Eventually you’ll start to see it too.” 

Megatron placed a protective hand over Minimus’ poetry. He wasn’t sure how Rodimus knew, but he wanted to keep that just for himself. Minimus trusted him with his work and Megatron would not let him down. 

“And, if you’re really-super-omega lucky,” Rodimus’ mouth curled into a mischievous grin, “You find a dashingly handsome, infinitely wise and magnanimous co-captain with loads of experience to guide you along the road to redemption.” 

“Are you taking credit for my repentance?” Megatron narrowed his optics. The speed with which Rodimus could shift gears from contemplative support to blatant mischief never failed to amaze him. 

“Well,” Rodimus snickered. “I definitely noticed first! After all, I awarded you the prestigious Rodimus Star for abandoning your evil ways!” 

“Get the hell out of here.” Megatron chuckled. His hand automatically went to his chest, where he kept that same battered medal tucked inside his armor, close to his spark. When Rodimus first handed him that gaudy shining token, he thought of it merely as frivolous vanity. Somehow over the long years he spent lost in another universe it had come to symbolize proof that he could indeed change. 

“I’m serious!” 

“So am I!” Megatron stood up and tried to gently guide Rodimus towards the door. “Literally, get the hell out of my room! You’ve given me a lot to think about, and I thank you for it.”


	3. Sparkles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to mope alone in his dark room, Megatron tries in vain to get Rodimus to leave. Too bad Rodimus already has plans for this evening and he needs Megatron, whether he thinks he deserves a place on the Lost Light or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally starting to turn the corner on the sad content!

“Wait!” Rodimus planted himself firmly before Megatron could successfully maneuver him out of the open door. Megatron nearly tripped over him. How could a bot less than half his size be so resistant to being shoved along? “I didn’t tell you why I came looking for you yet!” 

Megatron leaned more of his weight against Rodimus, but he still wouldn’t budge. He contemplated asking him if he had some sort of gravity magnification field when a tentative knock on his doorframe interrupted his thoughts. 

“Rodimus? Are you still here?” 

“Thunders! You made it!” Rodimus chirped. “Come on in!” 

Megatron cast a sideways glance at Rodimus. Who did he think he was? Just inviting more people into his room? At this rate he’d never get back to Minimus’ poetry. He just opened his mouth to scold his co-captain when Thunderclash sheepishly peeked around the doorframe. Megatron’s jaw dropped. 

A glittering metallic topcoat augmented Thunderclash’s already flamboyant color scheme. As soon as the dim light hit the gigantic bot’s multicolor paintwork, it sent prismatic rainbows dancing across the dark room. The effect reminded Megatron of the brilliant lights from the time that, for reasons that still escaped him, Starscream and Soundwave opened a hypnotic dance club on earth. Megatron squinted while Rodimus gasped in awe. 

“Thunderclash?” Megatron held up a hand to block the blinding lights reflecting off Thunderclash’s armor. “Why are you so... sparkly?” 

“Oh! You noticed!” Thunderclash excitedly pirouetted to show off his new iridescent topcoat, creating the same dazzling effect as the mirror ball Starscream hung above the dance floor. It took all of Megatron’s considerable will power to not roll his optics so hard that they fell out of his head. Thunderclash was one of handful of bots that had him at a disadvantage in size. There was no way NOT to notice him, and that was before he shone like a thousand swirling galaxies. “Rodimus gifted me some glitter polish. And I love it!” 

“Oh, Thunders! I knew you’d love it” Rodimus beamed. He elbowed Megatron with a sly grin. “Isn’t he magnificent?” 

“That’s definitely a word for it,” Megatron deadpanned. His lack of appreciation for rainbow glitter did nothing to dampen their enthusiasm as they complimented each other’s shininess. Now he had two uninvited guests in his room. At least he should be able to get rid of both of them at the same time. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, Thunderclash. Rodimus was just leaving.” 

“Actually.” Rodimus folded his arms and cast a sideways glance Megatron. “Rodimus was just telling you why he’s looking for you.” 

This time Megatron gave in to the overwhelming urge and rolled his optics. He was exhausted. “It’s late. Don’t you two have somewhere else to be?” 

“Of course, we do!” Rodimus exclaimed. 

“We have a date tonight!” Thunderclash beamed. 

Megatron narrowed his optics and glared at both of them, their glittering paintwork reflecting lights all over his dark room. They were so ridiculous. Despite his dark mood, he couldn’t resist teasing them. Before he realized it, Megatron felt the corners of his mouth curl into a smile. “I’m not sure what you think about the nature our relationship if you think that I need to be part of your date.” 

“That’s- That’s not what I- What I meant was-” Thunderclash’s stammered as his magenta optics widened and practically his entire frame lit up bright pink. Megatron couldn’t help but smile; his reaction was even more exaggerated than he had expected. 

“Oh, Primus!” Rodimus doubled over in laughter. Megatron waited for Rodimus’ outburst to calm to mild giggling while Thunderclash looked like he might faint at any moment. Rodimus wrapped a casual arm around Thunderclash’s waist and the big bot instantly relaxed. “Look Megs, we don’t need to you to be part of our date; you’re the price of admission. You see, Mags is singing karaoke after hours tonight at Swerve’s-” 

“I know.” Megatron cut him off and crossed his arms. Where was Rodimus going with this? Minimus has told him several times when he planned to sing. “What’s your point?” 

“If you know, sir,” Thunderclash asked, genuine concern softening his voice, “Why aren’t you going? He doesn’t tell just anyone.” 

Megatron blinked. He thought everyone knew. Why would Minimus only tell him? Although he never specifically invited him, did he expect him to attend? 

“Megs, Megs, Megs,” Rodimus sighed. He shook his head, still recovering from his burst of laughter. “Let me explain things so that even an ex-tyrannical warlord could understand. In case you haven’t noticed, Mags is not the most emotionally open bot in the universe. Shocking, I know. While he hasn’t quite gotten up the nerve to invite you personally to listen to him sing, he is secretly hoping you’ll come every time he tells you about it.” 

“I- I don’t understand...” Megatron stared at the both of them. Minimus had already shared his poetry with him. Could he really want to share his singing as well? 

“I’ve been dying to listen to him sing, but he’s never invited me,” Rodimus pouted. 

“Then how did you find out about tonight?” Megatron asked. 

“Riptide!” They both cheerily shouted at once. 

“Riptide’s one of my best friends! We were talking, and he told us that Minimus is always so disappointed when you don’t show up. Riptide thought that maybe you were too shy to come alone. He promised that if we brought you, then he would let us in too!” Thunderclash smiled, all sweet sincerity, and held out his hand. “Come on! Let’s go!” 

Megatron blankly stared at sparkling cobalt hand offered to him. For a split second he saw Rodimus’ reaching out to him across time and space to rescue him from the dark matter that he used to destroy the DJD. He had another choice to make, but he didn’t deserve it any more now than he did then. They couldn’t possibly expect him to join them. Not after, well, everything. Simply remaining aboard the Lost Light was already far more than he deserved... And why would anyone dare to think he was too shy to do anything? He almost conquered the entire universe for Primus’ sake. 

“Yeah, Megs!” Rodimus instantly crossed the boundaries that Thunderclash politely maintained. He reached out and grabbed Megatron’s arm and tried in vain to tug him along. Throwing all his weight into his efforts, his feet skidded on the floor while Megatron remained unmoved. “This is my big chance to listen to Mags sing! Don’t ruin this for me!” 

Easily disentangling himself from the eager speedster, for the briefest moment, Megatron considered joining them. The thought of Minimus waiting for him to attend one of his private concerts twisted his spark. As he mulled over the possibilities, a vision of Hoist standing waist deep in a sea of endless spark flowers offering him a broken datapad flashed through his mind. He turned away. Minimus deserved so much better. 

“Thunderclash, please,” Megatron muttered without facing him, “Scoop up your co-captain and carry him out of here.” 

“Hey!” Rodimus huffed with no small amount of indignation. 

“That’s an order!” He added sharply. They had to leave now, before he changed his mind in a moment of weakness. 

“Sorry, Roddy,” Thunderclash shrugged. His optics sparkled and a mischievous grin spread across his golden face, causing the glitter polish to shimmer even more. 

Rodimus’ blue optics widened as if he instantly read Thunderclash’s mind. “You wouldn’t dare!” he gasped. 

“Orders are orders!” Thunderclash winked. He strode forward and wrapped one arm around Megatron’s shoulders and the other behind his knees. Before he could even protest, Megatron found himself being effortlessly lifted and gently held in Thunderclash’s glittering arms. 

“WH- WHAT?! What are you doing?” Megatron sputtered. 

“Just following your orders, sir!” Thunderclash gleefully replied as he carried Megatron right out of his room flanked by a snickering Rodimus. 

“Orders?! I am NOT your co-captain!” 

“Am I not a crew member of the Lost Light?” 

“Yes, but-” 

“And are you not one of the co-captains of said vessel?” 

“Of course-” 

“Then that makes you my co-captain too!” 

“You know that I’m not one for logic,” Rodimus hopped up and easily draped himself over Thunderclash’s broad shoulder to nudge Megatron, “But he’s got you there!” Thunderclash continued unphased, happily strolling down the hall towards Swerve’s with one disgruntled co-captain wrapped in his arms and the other happily perched on his shoulder. 

After several seconds of stewing in silence, Megatron sighed and resigned himself to his fate. “Fine! I’ll go. Not that I seem to have a choice,” He grumbled. Megatron settled into Thunderclash’s embrace. He should be angry, but for some reason he felt better now than he had all evening. Having people that genuinely cared about him enough to forcibly drag him out of the darkness brightened the light in his spark. Although Rodimus’ motivations were at least partially selfish, his sincere concern for both Megatron and Minimus radiated like the warm glow of his tiny flame. “At least go shut the door to my room.”


	4. I Want it That Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After wrestling with the shadows and monsters of his past all evening, Megatron finally admits to himself that he wants to be on the Lost Light more than anything. Perhaps for one very specific reason above all others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Minimegs week!
> 
> Minimus singing Backstreet Boys songs is one on my favorite things!

“I gotcha, Megs! It’s the least I can do!” Rodimus vaulted himself forward over the two larger bots. “I’ll go lock up your room. I bet I can do that and still beat you to Swerve’s!” He hit the ground in his alt mode, spun a few donuts, and sped off in a plume of white smoke. “Wooo!! I am so super stoked!” 

“We don’t actually have to race him do we?” Megatron asked as Rodimus screeched away. 

“Nah!” Thunderclash shook his head with a chuckle. “I couldn’t beat him even if I tried. He just likes to tease me about being so slow.” 

“That’s a relief,” Megatron sighed. “You can put me down now.” He winced at Rodimus’ squealing tires echoing through the hallways. At this rate, he’ll wake the entire ship, and possibly the populations of the planets they were flying past. 

“It’s no trouble, sir!” Thunderclash adjusted his grip. “I might not be able to lift as much as Tailgate, but-” 

“Put me down. I can walk just fine." Megatron refused to damage his dignity any further by squirming. He found Thunderclash’s amiable nature and warm embrace unsettlingly comfortable. No wonder everyone on the ship swooned when he walked by. He wanted out of those arms before he actually started to enjoy himself or before Whirl sees him and he never hears the end of it. 

“As long as you promise to come with us. Bailing out now would disappoint both Minimus and Rodimus.” 

“Yes, yes,” Megatron answered with a dismissive wave. “I’ve already agreed to come.” 

“Okay then!” Thunderclash stooped to set him down. As Megatron’s feet hit the floor, Thunderclash’s engine misfired and he swayed. Megatron easily caught him and held him upright. 

“Are you alright?” Megatron’s centuries of medical training in the functionist universe took over as he automatically evaluated Thunderclash’s condition. Thunderclash was exhibiting all the classic symptoms of spark trouble: sudden weakness, uneven engine firing, slight flickering in his optics. Although his damaged spark had troubled him for years, Megatron thought the encounter with the personality ticks had finally cured him. 

“Sorry about that,” Thunderclash wobbled in Megatron’s arms. After a few moments, his engine resumed its trademark deep, steady rhythm. He rubbed the back of his helm with a sheepish grin. “Sometimes that happens. Thanks for catching me.” 

“Never apologize for a medical condition. Besides, I thought your spark was repaired.” Megatron stated with concern and a growing feeling of guilt as they resumed slowly walking towards Swerve’s. 

“Yeah! My spark stopped shrinking and hardly hurts at all anymore. The black plasma burns all turned into silver scars. Rodimus-” A soft pink glow lit up his cheeks as a dreamy smile spread across his face, “He- he says it’s really beautiful. Do you want to see?” Thunderclash instantly reached for the access panel on his chest. 

“NO!” Megatron held up his hands to stop Thunderclash. “Please.” Aside from Thunderclash’s embarrassing lack of modesty, he couldn’t bear to be bathed in the flickering light of his legacy of violence. The memory flashed through his mind like petals of spark flowers borne on the wind. A lifetime ago, Megatron ordered Tarn to cripple Thunderclash as part of his lessons in psychological warfare; shoot him, not to kill but to mortally wound. He planned to use agonizingly slow death of one of their most charismatic commanders to crush Autobot morale. Thunderclash was supposed to die after languishing for a few days, medics unable to save him, and leave the entire army with a despairing sense of helplessness. He had meticulously scripted the entire affair. Somehow, despite Tarn’s perfect aim, this colorful idiot managed to cling to life for centuries through pure oblivious cheerfulness. 

“Are you okay, sir?” Genuine concern filled Thunderclash’s voice. 

Megatron blinked. No, he was not okay. He leaned back against the wall; limbs going numb. None of this was okay. Memories assaulted him like monsters breaking free of Pandora’s box, ruthless and unrelenting. He wrote the script that the DJD followed when they murdered Trailcutter, leaving Hoist spark-broken and alone. He gave the order to cripple Thunderclash and the big bot was too sweet to hold it against him. Regardless of who was inside the armor at the time, he tried to kill Ultra Magnus several times, yet Minimus kept reaching out to him in his own subtle ways. He once shot Rodimus with his own plasma cannon, point blank. Despite that, his tenacious co-caption tore a hole in time and space to rescue him from the dark matter that he used to destroy the DJD. If he had any true courage, he’d have refused Rodimus’ hand and accepted his own death along with the worst of his monsters. 

He’s done such terrible things and they can never be undone. Nothing could bring Trailcutter back, or erase the scars on Thunderclash’s spark, or stop Rodimus from involuntarily flinching at loud noises in his presence. Somehow, after all innumerable horrors that he unleased, this band of idiots invited him to join them on an endless quest across a brand new universe. 

It felt like ages had passed since his conversation with Hoist. He thought about Trailcutter’s battered datapad lying dark and lifeless next to a shining new one filled with Minimus’ awkward poetry. The first represented his past, complete with monsters lurking in the shadows cast by its broken light, but the clear steady glow of the second… He’s trying so hard to be better; to return all the compassion and understanding that the crew has shown him. Did he really deserve to hope for a new future? One spent with friends that, like Rodimus said, saw the best in him despite the fact that he caused them so much pain? 

“I don’t deserve any of this,” Megatron sighed. “Not your concern or Rodimus’ friendship or the faith of the crew or... or Minimus...” 

“Of course not, sir.” Thunderclash squeezed his shoulder. Megatron startled at the uncharacteristically harsh statement before Thunderclash’s entire posture slumped and he sighed, “Neither do I.” 

Megatron stared at the glittering bot lumbering beside him. At first, he was shocked by his blunt agreement, but he hadn’t expected him to think he didn’t deserve to be on the Lost Light either. Whether he owned up to it or not, everyone looked up to him as the Greatest Autobot of All Time. 

"I got mixed up in the mutiny-” 

“That was an accident.” After they reunited with the Lost Light, Thunderclash made a special point to talk to everyone to sincerely apologize for his part in the mutiny and help other mutineers adjust. When Getaway and Atomizer spoke to Thunderclash about their plan to get Megatron off the ship in their booth at Swerve’s, Rodimus was chatting with Swerve at the bar. Dreamily transfixed by the flashy speedster, Thunderclash just smiled and nodded at everything they said, totally oblivious to the real topic of conversation. Not he should compare their past sins but Megatron knew exactly what he was doing. No accidents. No mistakes. 

“It doesn’t matter! In fact, I feel like it makes it worse. I should have been paying attention. Once I realized what had happened, I tried to make things right, but things went off the rails so fast. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Riptide. He saved my life multiple times. I betrayed Lotty. I betrayed you. I betrayed the one person who I love more than anything in this or any universe. But after the whole fiasco, Rodimus forgave me to the point that he trusted me with one of the matrixes. No questions. No conditions.” 

“If you think you don’t deserve to be here, why did you stay?” Megatron had asked himself the same question numerous times but was never brave enough to search for an answer. 

“Rodimus.” Thunderclash responded without a moment’s hesitation, blushing a soft pink. “We talked about the whole thing. He said that if he forgave me, I’d have to forgive myself. He just- Just really cares, you know. When he gave that speech about all of us being good enough to defeat functionist primus, it felt like he was speaking directly to me.” He dragged the back of his hand across his optics to wipe away some gathering tears. “Just thinking about it gets me every time. I’d go anywhere with him as long as he’d have me.” 

Megatron smiled and a vision of Minimus instantly came to his mind, loyal and resolute. His optics widened as he fought the heat racing to his face. Maybe he did have a very specific reason for wanting to remain aboard the Lost Light. 

“Everyone on board this ship has screwed up in some way or another. You. Me. Even Rodimus. I’m not sure any of us really deserve to be here.” Thunderclash shrugged. “But we all want to be together anyway. Making the choice to be here, to help each other, forgive each other, to try to be better, is what really counts. Like Rodimus said, ‘Maybe you’re not good, but you’re sure as hell good enough’.” 

Megatron considered Thunderclash’s words. He did want to be here. He wanted to be here on the Lost Light more than anywhere else. Perhaps if Thunderclash and Rodimus could help each other be better people, maybe he could accept their help as well, whether he deserved it or not. 

When they turned the corner to Swerve’s, Riptide and Rodimus were chatting outside the door. Thunderclash’s entire demeanor brightened upon seeing two of his favorite people. His optics somehow outshone his glittering topcoat. 

“Mutiny Buddy!” Riptide and Thunderclash shouted simultaneously as they threw their arms in the air. 

“Honestly,” Rodimus laughed. “I wish you two wouldn’t call each other that.” 

“Whatever! You’re just jealous!” Riptide stuck out his tongue and leapt into Thunderclash’s arms for a gigantic hug. To Megatron’s infinite surprise, after Riptide finished hugging his munity-buddy, he turned towards him. 

“I’m so glad that you finally came!” he squealed with glee, squeezing Megatron tightly and snuggling against his chest. “Mags is gonna die!! He’s already in there, selecting his songs for tonight with Swerve.” 

Megatron did his best to ignore Rodimus’ snickering as he struggled in vain to escape the surprisingly strong embrace of the enthusiastic shark bot. 

“I- I’m not sure that I can do this...” Megatron grumbled as he futilely pushed against Riptide’s fins, unable to disentangle himself from the unexpected hug. 

“Ugh! Don’t start this again.” Rodimus groaned as he dramatically flopped backwards to lean against Thunderclash. 

“Start what?” Riptide finally let him go. 

“Minimus deserves so much better... than me.” Megatron mumbled, unable to meet any of their optics. Surprising him again, Riptide laughed. 

“Pfft! Please!” Riptide scoffed. “You said it yourself: The only thing anyone deserves is the freedom to choose.” 

“When did I ever say that?” 

“In ‘Towards Peace.’ Duh!” Riptide hooked his arm around Megatron’s and began guiding him towards Swerve’s followed by Thunderclash with his arm draped around an ecstatic Rodimus. 

“You’ve read ‘Towards Peace’?” So far, Riptide’s managed to surprise at every turn tonight. 

“Studied it, actually!” Riptide preened. “With Trailcutter. He helped me understand it. At least some of it. The only thing that any of us deserve is the freedom to choose: How to live, who to love, what to do with our lives. No one deserves any more or any less. If Mins wants to share things with you, you can choose to refuse but you don’t have the right to decide for him. Making choices for other people is where the trouble starts.” 

Allowing himself to be led by the shark bot, Megatron smiled. His entire life’s work, volumes of philosophy, summarized in just a few words. “That’s- that’s actually quite perceptive.” 

“Thanks!” Riptide beamed before scrunching his face in confusion. “I think? That’s a good thing, right?” When Megatron nodded, Riptide vented a sigh of relief. “Words are hard.” 

“Words are hard.” Megatron agreed. His writer’s brain screamed internally at speaking such a plebeian phrase, but his philosophical side appreciated its profound truth. Words were easy to misinterpret or manipulate. Many people, himself included, twisted benign phrases into new and terrifying meanings. Yet for all of their weight, all his volumes of philosophy couldn’t provide one word of comfort to Hoist. 

As he entered the door, Megatron glanced across the bar to where Minimus sat shuffling through a box of music recordings from Earth with Swerve. Megatron offered a slight nod as Riptide directed him to a booth. When he met Minimus’ optics, his spark stopped in his chest. Minimus froze. His bright crimson optics sparkled with radiant light, like every time Thunderclash looked at Rodimus. The corners of his mouth just slightly twitched upwards and the faintest pink glow ghosted his cheeks. On anyone else such a reaction would be nearly imperceptible, but on Minimus! On Minimus it qualified as an extreme emotional response. 

Megatron simply stared, feeling the heat rush to his own face. He sat down automatically when Riptide pressed down on his shoulders, oblivious to anything else in the room. He was vaguely aware of Thundreclash and Rodimus giggling somewhere behind him. Of Riptide hissing at them to be quiet. Of Swerve setting an effervescent violet drink in front of him. The only thing that mattered was Minimus’ smile. And, it was for him. 

A shadow of doubt began to assail him. Perhaps he misread Minimus’ expression. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all. Before he could get his legs to cooperate and facilitate his escape, Swerve started the music. Rodimus whooped with delight at the soft strains of some stringed instrument. Riptide whipped a rag at him from across the room where he was cleaning tables, setting Thunderclash to giggling again. His awareness of his surroundings fell even further away as Minimus picked up his microphone. 

Minimus drew himself up and swayed along with the music, waiting for the que to start singing. Although the song, like most music, was unfamiliar to Megatron, Minimus seemed to know this one intimately. When he found the note he’d been waiting for, Minimus stared directly into Megatron’s optics as he crooned softly. 

_You are my fire_  
My one desire  
Believe when I say  
I want it that way 

All of Megatron’s circuits locked up. He knew his face glowed a shade of pink that was would put Thunderclash to shame. Rodimus whistled. He didn’t care. The focus of his world narrowed to only Minimus. The light danced on his green and white armor as he lost himself to the song. Although Minimus didn’t write those words, he made them his own. He swayed and spun as he continued to sing but his optics always returned to meet Megatron’s gaze. 

Thinking about all the monsters he unleased upon the universe, about all of the terrible things that he’s done, he knew Minimus deserved better. And yet, Minimus chose him. Minimus chose him and that made him happier than he had any right to be. He could never erase the monsters in his past, but he could choose to hold on to hope for a better future, a better version of himself. 

As Minimus sang, Megatron smiled recalling Hoist telling him the ending of the story of Pandora, how the last monster out of the box started at the smallest but then became the most powerful of them all. Hope. Megatron could just see it now: A magnificent creature, resplendent in the dazzling shades of white and green, larger and more powerful than any of the shadows in his past.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading! 
> 
> I appreciate your kudos and love reading your comments!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at: lush-specimen.tumblr.com


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